The Reality of Right
by Hatter and Hare Productions
Summary: What is right? What is wrong? How do we even know when we have decided? In the end, all he knew was that you were either a pawn or a practiced fool. - Honest critique desired!


_**The Reality of Right  
><strong>_By the March Hare

"Encore! Encore! Encore!"

Echoing through the streets, floating on wings of strings drum beats, the crowd roared for more. Though the night was late, and the partiers tired, they all knew more was to come, and they all were in the mood for more. Lights flashed, violet, scarlet, yellow, emerald and more, playing kaleidoscope on the eye. Despite the recent turmoil of the times, Disneyville's Festival of Fools was still the place to be. True, it was not longer like the original, old school style they still celebrated in Paris, but it attracted the modern crowds with its feature of the world's best bands and the festival being one of the few times liquor was allowed to be drunk outside the domestic situation.

That is, everyone, unless you are a villain.

But that did not stop Doctor Facilier. Hidden by a symphony of light and night, he slipped through the crowds undisturbed, inches from a security officer. Taking a moment to look around, he could see there were many lonely and lost souls here tonight, all looking for some kind of salvation. This, as the Shadowman knew, could take many forms. Strong drink, love, sex, even the simple sound of a guitar and the chance to dance the pain away. Peace was the goal of all mankind, but momentary distraction was the best they seemed to get.

The band who was being called on for an encore decided against, much to the sadness of the crowd and the anger of one drunk who threw a beer can at the band. Facilier just shook his head as the poor sap was dragged away yelling and bickering and fighting for all his (in Facilier's opinion) limited worth.

You are either a pawn or a practiced fool, Facilier knew that all too well.

So for now, he would just take a seat, slip out a bit of bubbly, and lay the night away watching and waiting for a person to slip into his open hands. And, of course, then do what the Shadowman does best.

This however, would not be the case for tonight.

Sitting down and leaning back, he stretched his skeleton-like body over the seat, getting a few cricks and knots out in the process. Collapsing back into a normal sitting position, he went back to his "hunting".

There was the angry couple, letting a few past mistakes get in the way of the night. There was a lonely Chinese man, dancing with every slut and whore he could find for a chance just to forget he was married to a bitch. There was even a young Arabian lady, fresh into the night life, looking around nervously like she was going to collapse inwards out of sheer fear. And there was-

**Whoa.**

"Ladies and gentlemen, make way for _Acerba!_" echoed the fat and balding master of ceremonies.

_That._

It was a tall, _leggy_ woman, her flowing, raven hair down to her thighs, and her light blue eyes like stars. She wore a black fedora, with a purple ribbon dashing around. Stuck in it was a white dove feather. On her torso was a buttoned-down, white dress shirt, with sliver pinstripes. The top button was left unbuttoned, obliviously for a little "show". The unfolded and unbuttoned cuffs went a little past her wrists and into her hand's palm. She also wore a pair of black boot cut dress pants, and her feet (for some odd reason) were partially shod with, believe it or not, blood stained-bandages wrapped tightly around.

She slipped past the emcee, a figure of dark beauty. With a guitar on her back, she strutted forward, her hair following her like some long, black snake. Her black guitar was acoustic, covered in gothic designs of red roses and thorns.

She was haughty, looking upon the crowd with a mix of amusement and savage delight. She was a wild thing, hard edged and dangerous, yet, only to the trained eye, fragile. It was obvious she had had a few drinks tonight, but it did not affect her at all as she burst into a couple of chords that would twirl Jimi Hendrix's mind. Seeing the crowd jump to the new sound. She grabbed the mike and let out a scream worthy of a psycho. Her eyes danced in delight like the waters of the Acheron, the River of Pain.

Her voice was rough, but like an angel's. She exuded confidence, and as soon as she began to strum, the crowd was on fire. Stepping light, stomping hard, swaying away, they all moved with the beat of the one-woman band.

And she sang:

_I was down at the New Amsterdam staring at this yellow-haired girl_

_Mr. Jones strikes up a conversation with this black-haired flamenco dancer_

_She dances while his father plays guitar_

_She's suddenly beautiful_

_We all want something beautiful_

_I wish I was beautiful_

She danced her heart out on stage, shaking back wildly as the song picked up pace. Humming when there was words, crooning when there was no more to be said, she kept the entire party alive, yet she herself was somehow already dead.

_So come dance this silence down through the morning_

_Cut Maria! _

_Show me some of them Spanish dances_

_Pass me a bottle, Mr. Jones_

_Believe in me_

_Help me believe in anything_

_I want to be someone who believes_

Her eyes watered, but only ever so slightly. She was a broken soul, but it only made her more beautiful to the beholder. As her hair caught the light, Facilier felt himself taken back to happier days, when he was a little boy chasing tadpoles and frogs in the bayou. He sighed, his whole body caving in. You never realize how much you miss the good days until they no longer want to hang out with you.

_Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales_

_Stare at the beautiful women_

_"She's looking at you. Ah, no, no, she's looking at me."_

_Smiling in the bright lights_

_Coming through in stereo_

_When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely_

As she sang, she pointed to people in the crowd, sometimes to the waitresses, sometimes to the man drinking. She was calling them out, saying "Come, live life, for you are only given a few days, and there are few pleasures worth enjoying. Nevertheless, enjoy them, for that is what makes a short life worth living."

_I will paint my picture_

_Paint myself in blue and red and black and gray_

_All of the beautiful colors are very, very meaningful_

_Grey is my favorite colorI felt so symbolic yesterday_

_If I knew PicassoI would buy myself a gray guitar and play_

She made strokes in the air with her guitar's head, laughing when she could, whipping her wild hair around. She was crazy, wild, free, and yet imprisoned by something stronger than the binds of Prometheus, more painful than the Shirt of Nessus.

_Mr. Jones and me look into the future_

_Stare at the beautiful women_

_"She's looking at , I don't think so. She's looking at me."_

_Standing in the spotlight_

_I bought myself a gray guitar_

_When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely_

And she slowed down, just for a moment, her raspy voice gone in favor of soft croon that shook a soul like a mother's lullaby. Facilier, alone in the back, felt a tear leave his eye, a distant memory of the only mother he ever had consuming his mind.

_I want to be a lion_

_Everybody wants to pass as cats_

_We all want to be big, big stars, but we got different reasons for that _

_Believe in me because I don't believe in anything_

_and I want to be someone to believe_

_To believe, to believe, to believe, yeah_

And, with a fiery burst of energy, she began to sing her broken heart out, and pieces of it flew out, creating a wave of emotion that sent the crowd into a symphony of dancing, singing, and lovemaking.

_Mr. Jones and me stumbling through the barrio_

_Yeah we stare at the beautiful women_

_"She's perfect for you, _

_Man, there's got to be somebody for me._

_I want to be Bob Dylan_

_Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky_

_When everybody loves you, son, that's just about as funky as you can be_

_Mr. Jones and me staring at the video_

_When I look at the television, I want to see me staring right back at me_

_We all want to be big stars, but we don't know why and we don't know how_

_But when everybody loves me, _

_I'm going to be just about as happy as can be_

_Mr. Jones and me, we're gonna be big stars._

The crowd roared, sending a shockwave through the area as people shouted and cheered and cried and laughed and begged for an encore. Sweaty, tired, and as sick as a dog, the lone woman on stage did what every other musician and singer has done in their lives.

She continued to play.

* * *

><p>The backstage was quiet compared to the stage, and the lone woman they call Acerba was happy for the moment of serenity. As a new band began to play, she slowly packed up her guitar into her case and slung it on her back. She looked around. In front of her, as the backstage crew passed by unknowingly of the beauty before them, was the still Timeless River, Disneyville's soul body of water. With no rush or intent to go anywhere, the river passed on by, ignoring the busy world. The crescent moon reflected off its seemingly unmoving surface, touching the face of lone woman like the hand of a lover or the warm touch of a loving mother so few of us have truly had.<p>

She began to move, sneaking away from the crowds, away from the adoring fans, from the music critics, from the world that destroyed her soul. Without looking back, she made her way to the park, hoping to catch some air there. Her feet hurt with each step she took, and she would not of been surprised to find out that they were infected. But, who gives a damn for the poor, or their pains? The little money she had earned would have greater things to do than to heal her feet, or buy her shoes, or fill her stomach. Just as long as she could play, she would be fine.

Anyway, she welcomed the pain. It reminded her that she was still alive, and, as it dulled, it reminded her that she was to die soon, the one of her two only joys she had left in her wretched life.

As the cobbled streets split her feet open, she felt something move in the shadows,

She stopped dead. Closing her eyes, she slowly bent down and reached for her concealed blade, a double-edged blade about 13 centimeters, strapped with leather to her left leg. Pulling up her pant's leg, she felt the disturbance move closer. She grabbed the blade and stood up, muttering a pray to the wind to guide her hand.

The wind stopped.

"Make another move, dear," Vidia jeered, "and I will stab your fucking eyeballs out."

"Still as cold as the winter zephyrs, darling," Facilier crooned as he slipped out of the shadows, "I bet when you screw with men, their balls freeze off."

Vidia laughed, but it a bitter one. "Now you know why that would never happen, you jerk."

"One night with me and I can change that." The mulatto boasted.

Vidia gave him the middle finger. She sheathed the knife, and pulled down her pant's leg, much to the witch doctor's disappointment. Standing up, she turned around to face the Shadowman. "Still in the conning business, or is there something more pricey than souls in this here day and age?"

"There is nothing more valuable than souls, _chere_. But, I have learned my lesson, and am just a honest man seeking an honest day's work." The last part of what he said was a lie, but he was what he was. Facilier raised his eyebrows in interest, offering his hand to the young lady. "May I have the honor of escorting a fine, young lady through this dark night?"

The former pixie looked upon the large, thin hand and the man's cheeky grin that glowed in the dark night. He was handsome devil, but a devil all the same. One night with him, and you will wake up to find yourself damned to Hell for all time.

Still…

Everyone thought she was damned already, so she might as well be.

Vidia shook her head, wondering when she had become such a weak fool, and took the hand. "If I knew a fine, young lady, I would offer you them, but since I don't you will have to take me."

"Even better." Was all he said.

His hand was warm in that chilly night, and she found herself tired of the cold, tired of being alone. There is nothing that freezes your soul more than being alone, and she knew that well.

He was a pleasant escort, alive with words of wit and wisdom. He admitted to her, as they walked, he had a weakness for literature and knowledge. In his love he knew no boundaries. He knew "Annabel Lee" by heart, and there was not a poem of Langston Hughes he did not know. He regaled her with the teachings of Aristippus of Cyrene, and when she got tired of words, he gave her songs. In the windy night he sang her "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole, and hummed and whistled out all of "La vie en rose" by Louis Armstrong.

However, Facilier was not the only talker that night. Vidia soon turned the tables as she told him of the legends of the Celtic Islands. She told him of the adventures of Cú Chulainn, each and every suspect of the Jack the Ripper Murders (and why they were suspected), and quoted entire soliloquies from the tragedies of Macbeth, Hamlet, and King Lear. Her music tastes, however, were a little more modern and diverse compared to Facilier's. If Amy Lee sung it, Vidia could sing it. If Rush could play it, she could play it. She confessed she could play and sing the entirety of Coheed and Cambria's 'Welcome Home" in her sleep.

By the time the clock strike midnight, Facilier had come to a startling conclusion, one he was afraid to admit to.

Stopping in the middle of the lamp-lit street, he looked to the beautiful woman next to him, and in all seriousness asked-

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Vidia guffawed, and continued to do so, letting the enchanting echo play through the streets.

"How did you guess?" she asked finally, chuckling even as she did. "Cause it looked like you were too busy staring down my shirt to be thinking."

True, his eyes had been drawn to her black, lacy bra more than once, but he would never admit to it. But, he did know he stared at her eyes more than everything on her body combined. But that was not what he was interested in.

He stood back, keeping a hold of her hand as he did, and leaning in as he did. He kept his eyes locked straight on hers, trying to talk some sense into the self-destructive sheba. "_Chere_, if you got no place to stay, I can let you sleep at my place."

For some reason, the thought actually scared her, as if she actually had something to lose if she did stay with him. But she would not let him know her fears, nor her strengths. All he was a good time waiting to make you regret, enough said. Still… temptation wracked her tired soul.

"Now why, sweetheart" she said, her normal haughtiness slipping out as did her hand from his, "would I stay even a minute in that little piece of shit you call "a crib"?" She put her hands on her hips, her left eyebrow rising in arrogance.

Facilier stood up, his full height apparent for all to see. He stood a good half-foot over her, and in the streetlight his long, skeletal shadow was cast over her, enveloping her shadows.

The young lady found herself fearing death once again.

"Don't act all high and mighty with me, sweetheart." His voice was low and dark, like the beat of the sacrificial drum, and his eyes became two violet flames in the shadowy world. "You may be puttin' on airs to beat Moses for the rest of the world, but I can see the pain in your eyes." He extended his hand out for her, his form and eyes softening as he did. "Take my hand."

Vidia felt his soul _almost_ give out. Her hands quivered in desire, and her heart shook in fear and the desire for happiness.

"Come on, I won't hurt you." he beckoned her forward, his words plucking at her heart strings. "Take this poor sinner's hand."

"_**No!" **_she yelled it out, screaming like a banshee. The cold world shook, and Facilier backed away in wise fear.

Turning back to the street, she shoved her hands in her pockets and made her way down the street, not looking back for all the world. Slowly, she began to disappear into the night, a lonely figure

"What happened to you, girl!" Facilier yelled, his form shaking in rage. "Last I saw you, you were a happy little pixie girl, flying your little heart out like you were God's gift to fairies!" Tears entered his eyes. "Now, you just another husk, walking around like no one cares what happens to you!"

The former fairy stopped dead in her tracks. She flipped around, and marched straight up the street, back to Facilier, like the walking manifestation of piss-and-vinegar.

"You wanna know what happened to me?" She got right up in his face, her face deranged by pain, and her eyes burning in pure hatred. "You fucking want to know what happened to me?"

Facilier did not back down. "Yes," was all he said.

Vidia stopped dead, her body quivering in the cold.

"They found out!" she screamed, pointing a damning finger at King Mickey's castle. Those ass-holes that run this fucking little wonderland! As soon as they found out, they had enough proof in their shitty, little books to prove I was a villain! After that," she rubbed her forehead in frustration, her eyes watering, "it's all a blur. I got a size change in exchange for my wings and talent. Bought this guitar. Made my way to this dump."

Facilier felt his heart hit the bottom of his chest. He knew what it was like to be a villain. No one wants to talk to you, cause they think your out to take over the world and enslave them. No one wants to help you, cause they think you will betray them as soon as you offer a hand. No one wants to even acknowledge your existence, cause you are the reason their Happily-Ever-After isn't so. It doesn't matter if their being paranoid or not, too, cause the men who run this world think so too, so you might as well up and die, cause the only people going to your funeral are the undertakers and the people you want to take a shit on your grave.

It wasn't just a social stigma, too, it was a legal status. It is a rule that villains cannot practice magic, cannot drink, can not smoke, cannot marry, cannot anything! The only thing they can do is die! Oh, you could _try_ to argue, but they will just say you have just as many rights as a the heroes do. They just are trying to make sure the _other villains _don't do anything bad.

Yeah, and if wishes were horses, than beggars would ride. Frankly, Facilier felt as if he had magically escaped being black only to have the word "black" be replaced with "villain".

Free at last, free at _fucking_ last, eh, Mr. King?

However, Vidia's was a special cause. When Facilier met her, she was just another fairy, a little meaner than the others, but still a good gal at heart. The circumstances of her tale did not merit the title of "villain", but just barely. But this little fairy had a secret, and Facilier, quite innocently, found it out one day. Vidia begged on her tiny, little knees for him to keep it a secret, but Facilier did not need convincing. If there was one thing the Shadowman could do, it was a keep a valuable secret.

How the big wigs on top found out was beyond him, but they have their _ways…_

"And now," Vidia began to break down, the dams in her soul breaking at the cracks, "I can't go back to Pixie Hollow, I can't talk to my old friends cause they think I'm out to get them!" She fell into the witch doctor's arms, crying her broken heart out as she did. Facilier suddenly realized how thin she had gotten recently, and not because she had been working out.

"I can't even get a damn cup of coffee without some kid calling me a "monster"! A little kid! 7 years old! I just can't-" she mourned as she pound Facilier chest's with her fists. "just can't take it anymore. I want to die, I _need_ to die!"

Facilier felt a bitter reality sneak into his mind. If she was not eating, and she did not have a place to stay, then… what does a dying person need money for?

"Is that where your money is going?" he asked, "To your **funeral**?"

"No," she sniffled. "I got a friend, just like me, if you know what I mean," she said, stepping back from Facilier and hugging herself as she did. She steadied herself for a few moments, finding the strength to speak. "She's got breast cancer, _really bad_, and, I swore," she said as she shook in a newfound strength, "I would give all of money to her healing, even if it would kill me, cause she's just a little thing, ya know, but she's got it so rough. No one to love her but her "older sister"," Vidia let out a small, pain-filled chuckle as she pointed to herself.

Her body caved in for a moment, her body almost too tired to bear the burden of life. Facilier thought to move in to comfort her, but she soon stood up to her full height, a fierce, blue fire in her eyes. "I don't got enough to pay for the magic to heal her, but I swear, _I __**swear**_, I will not die until that little girl is up and moving and dancing again!"

The two of them stood there for a moment, colder than a rat's ass. Facilier took a breath, and extended his hand again. This time, however, it was for a handshake.

"Here's the deal, Vidia, and don't you dare say no to it. I can call up some of my friends on the other side to heal yo friend, just this once, but you gotta stay with me and try to get your life back together before you go off and try to kill yourself again for some righteous cause. No charges. I will let you eat my food and sleep on my bed." Before she could respond, he added, "I'll just take the couch. You get to keep every cent you ever got. I can even get you some shoes. Fair enough?"

She looked suspicious, but desperate, and (despite her best effort) hopeful as fool on the drawing of a lottery. "No sex, though?" she questioned.

"Of course." he smoothly replied, a boyish, little grin splitting his face. "Unless you want it." he added devilish.

Vidia extended her hand, and they shook on it.

Walking to her new home, Vidia and Facilier sang a new song. With a guitar in her hands, and a two snapping hands on him, they sang-

_If you're lost you can look-and you will find me_

_Time after time_

_If you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting_

_Time after time…_

And, for the first time in two weeks, Vidia slept in a _warm_ and _safe_ place.

* * *

><p>Complaints, compliments, comments, or honest critiques? Please review! I read and appreciate all reviews, and I will edit in any suggestions I think would improve the story and make it better!<p>

This whole thing is set in my version of the Disney World, so to avoid confusion, here's the layout. All the Disney Princes and Kings and Mickey Mouse all own parts of this world, and Disneyville is like the capital of this world. Mickey is, in a way, the King of the Kings, and all bow before him. The whole world, though, was made by Walt Disney, so to some degrees it only exists because Walt made it so. It has sense become a separate realm since his death, yet it expands with every creation added to it by the Walt Disney Company. That is why Vidia was examined to see if see was a villain or not. All characters go through this procedure, and for most it is crystal clear. However, as you can see, the whole world is going to Hell in a hand basket. If you are further interested in reading about it, go check out my story "**VIP : The Villain Improvement Program"**. My only warning is that it does not further the story surrounding Vidia and Facilier until much later, and I have not gotten to that part yet, so you may end up waiting for more explanation on what happens to Vidia for some time. Sorry :(

The songs were "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows, and "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper.

P.S. Forgive me for any lyric mistakes I made. I basically just copied and pasted them into the writing.

P.S.S For all my followers of VIP, there will be an update soon, so keep your eyes open!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this here one-shot save for the original idea.


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